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Updated: June 13, 2025
Their tents made quite a little village, and the scene presented considerable quiet activity, for the Governor had brought a man over from Comanche to serve the camp with fuel and water and turn a hand at preparing the food. Agnes was cook-in-extraordinary to the patient and the doctor. She and Slavens took their supper together that night, sitting beside the fire.
In a few minutes there was more money on the table than the one-eyed man had stood before in many a day. Sorry for the foolish young man, and moved by the sacrifice which he saw in preparation, Dr. Slavens pressed against the table, trying to flash the youth a warning with his eyes. But the physician could not get a look into the young man's flushed face; his eyes were on the stake.
They are doing humanity a great service in smoothing the desert and bringing the water into it." "We will leave it to them," she said. They tramped across the claim until they came in sight of Hun Shanklin's tent. Its flap was blowing in the wind. "The old rascal came over to make friends with me," said Slavens. "He claimed that he never lifted his hand against me.
Agnes could hear the bride singing early in the morning, when the sun came up and poured its melted gold over that hopeful scene, with never a cloud before its face. Twenty miles farther along, toward Comanche, Dr. Slavens had pitched his tent among the rocks on the high, barren piece of land which he had selected blindly, guided by Hun Shanklin's figures.
The vastness of it bewildered me, and 'the lonesomeness, as Smith calls it, is settling in my heart." "Well, where will you go?" he asked bewilderedly. "Somewhere to some village or little farm, where we can raise poultry, mother and I." "But I haven't planned it that way," Slavens smiled. "If you leave, what am I going to do?"
Slavens banged away among his rocks, not knowing whether he was a victim of his own impetuosity or the peculiarly favored son of fortune, Agnes Horton, in her tent beside the river, was undergoing an adjustment of vision which was assisting her to see startlingly things exactly as they were. The enchantment of distance had fallen away.
Slavens for his homestead, as you were ready to pay that man Peterson if you could have filed him on it?" Agnes asked. "Because it's mine already," said Boyle. "This man stole the description of that land, as I have told you before, at the point of a gun." "Then you lied!" Slavens calmly charged. Boyle hitched his hip, throwing the handle of his pistol into sight.
There was Boyle's tent, with a fire before it, but no one in sight; and there, on the land which adjoined his former claim on the south, was another tent, so placed among the rocks that it could not be seen from his own. "It wasn't there when I left," Slavens reflected. "I wonder what he's after?"
"You'll have to put it down, or it will make you old. Go right on dreaming and planning; things will come out exactly as you have designed." "Perhaps," she agreed, but with little hope in her voice. Slavens saddled his horse after they had refreshed themselves with coffee. Agnes stood by, racked with an anxiety which seemed to grind her heart.
She declared that, as matters stood, she would not become a burden, with all her encumbrances, upon his slender resources. If mischance wrested the promised fee out of his hands, then they must go their ways separately. She repeated her determination to abide by that on the morning when Dr. Slavens announced the necessity of the operation. Slavens was hurt and disappointed.
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